


Psychic

by waterbird13



Series: Tumblr Fics [196]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Psychic, Sam's poor self worth, being used to reference sexual assault, one gendered slur, someone giving Sam some self esteem
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-19
Updated: 2016-09-19
Packaged: 2018-08-15 21:34:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 410
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8073469
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/waterbird13/pseuds/waterbird13
Summary: Sam and Dean meet a helpful psychic who just wants Sam to know he sees way more in him then Sam sees in himself.





	

**Author's Note:**

> This is another piece from Tumblr.
> 
> Warnings for discussions of Sam's self worth. There's a gendered slur ("bitch") and the context is being used to refer to sexual assault, although it's not explicit.

It’s not like they haven’t met psychics before. Plenty of them, actually. But usually they’re pretty focused on getting the job done, instead of staring at Sam like they can’t possibly tear their eyes away.

Sam shifts uncomfortably. “What?” he asks.

The psychic–Stanley, his name is Stanley–blinks. “Nothing,” he says hastily. “Just–I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Sam nods, then braces for it. _Boy with the demon blood,_   _ender of the world, Lucifer’s bitch_.

“Just–there’s words,” the man begins breathlessly “about what you’ve done…what you _will_ do…it’s amazing.”

Sam blinks. That’s the last thing he expected. “What I…will do?” he clarifies.

Stanley smiles. “I can’t tell you that,” he says. “Sorry. But just know–things are going to get better.”

Sam stares after him, dumbfounded, while Stanley turns back to the table they’ve set up. He shifts from foot to foot. “So, we doing this seance, or what?” he asks.

Sam’s mouth feels dry, but he does manage to nod. He, Dean, and Stanley form a circle, and Stanley calls on the spirit of the dead.

Stanley’s good at his thing. It’s painless, easy, and the connection is good. Overall, they get the information they need relatively quickly.

Stanley starts looking at Sam again. “You should know,” he says, his voice airy and light, distant, not quite itself, “that things aren’t what you think. _You_  are not what you think.”

Well, Sam doesn’t know what to say to that. That could mean a dozen things, most of them very, very bad.

Dean looks over, sharp-eyed. “What the hell, man?” he demands. “What’s wrong with Sammy?”

Stanley blinks, temporarily breaking the haze. “Wrong? Nothing’s wrong with him!” he protests. “The opposite. God, your brother doesn’t think _good_  things about himself. But he is. He’s good. All the way through.”

Sam’s about to ask how the _hell_  some stranger can know that, when Stanley just smiles. “Psychic, remember?” he says, addressing Sam. “I know these things. They tell me, and they tell me Sam Winchester is good.”

Sam just blinks, has no idea what he’s even supposed to say to that.

Dean rolls his eyes. “Well, it’s good to know the world’s not collapsing around us again. C’mon, Sammy. We got a ghost to torch.”

Sam follows his brother out of Stanley’s place, and into the car. Once Dean’s focused on the road, he can’t help but quirk a smile.

Because Sam Winchester is _good._


End file.
